


The Devil's Workshop

by Shorknado



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: No one has ever gotten through to Michael Myers in fifteen years of institutionalization. Some would call him a lost cause, but not Danny.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Michael Myers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	1. Manifest

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be good.

A persons soul is only able to be observed under few circumstances. When they think they are truly alone, and when they are moments from death are two of his personal favorites. 

Watching people drop their façade, become themselves in the truest of senses was beautiful. A sigh, dropping of shoulders, the disappearance of a smile. All of the things that happen when the front door closes are deep personal moments, even if they seem small, almost unimportant in the grand scheme of a person's day to day. But to him they meant so much more. 

They reveal their soul to him. Unknowingly they let him into their lives. Their entire reality becomes his to observe, to the advantage of. Revealing their souls to him means they become _his._ He is allowed to kill them because they showed him something they shouldn't have. 

All in all, if people kept their blinds closed and doors locked then they wouldn't get stalked so easily. They were asking for it. 

That was his manifest at least, just in case he got caught. Something that would keep the papers talking when he couldn't. Not that he planned on ever getting caught. Now he never had to worry about it anymore. 

He runs the file over his nails, checking them in the dull glow of the sky. Always perpetually giving the illusion of dusk on a rainy day. His neighbor should be home soon. Never was one to take to long on his little trips out to slaughter. Danny liked to take his sweet time, even if a couple of them got away. 

Thoughts of slowly running his knife up one of the squishy little victims spine overtake him swiftly. He could practically tfeel he blade bumping against every little bone. Cutting every single tendon and feeling the victims body slowly go limp as their limbs lose all feeling. Lost in the fantasy of next hunt he almost misses the arrival of his neighbor. Faintly perceiving the scrape of ill fitting boots on concrete snaps him out of the wistful daydream. 

He turns, peeking over the edge off the roof point at the figure walking down the street. Danny was instantly captivated with the man when he first saw him. 

From afar of course, its how he meets all the ones he loves and inevitably maims beyond recognition. He had been scoping out this house for a good base, having decided that the hospital and ski lodge were too cold for his taste. Not to mention talking to that one teenager made him want to rip the guys teeth out and shove them in his ears. This place had seemed completely abandoned until he had appeared. Covered in blood like some sort of angel shaped like a human. 

Danny watches him move, taking in every confident stride. The light scrap of rubber sole against concrete the only give away of his approaches. Up the steps and into the wide open doorway he disappears. 

Sighing dreamily he climbs over the hump of the roof and slides down the tiles. Landing gracefully on the widows walk above the porch. From here he watches the shadows move past the window and into a deeper recess of the house out of view. Before he's spotted he slides into the window and pins up the curtain keeping prying eyes away. 

Upon realizing he wasn't alone in the neighborhood he had a mild anxiety attack and completely blocked off all the ground floors doors and window with various bits of furniture. The only way to get in and out of the house now was climbing onto the porch overhang and slipping in through a window. 

Once inside he forgets exactly what he was doing and winds up staring at the constantly burning lightbulb above him so long that he momentarily faints from keeping his knees locked. 

Coming to on the floor he simply lays there and considers going out to rip some faces off a few of those perfect little victims out in the trials. It would make him feel more grounded, really focus all this rampant energy thats been building inside. All this he blames on the Shape and how much he desperately wants to learn about the man but he can't because the man is inside that stupid house and could absolutely snap his neck like a twig if he so wished. 

Dying was a fun thought. 

Surly he would come back? Right? 

Whispers of the Abyss scold him not to try it. And that gives him an idea. 

"Can you tell me about the guy across the street?" Danny asks the roof. It was unfullfilling to get his answers this way, "Oh wait no! Can you tell me where I can learn more about him?" 

Begrudgingly the Abyss whispers to him, painting pictures of snow and a lodge. 

Figures. 

He jumps to his feet, throwing open the closet and staring at the ghoulish masks that stared back. The delima of choice almost sends him into a frenzy, but eventually he goes for the gaudy chrome one tucked into a corner. The familar weight calms him so significantly he sighs in pleasure. Turning away from the closet and unwinding the curtain to peek out the window, eyes drawn magnetically towards the Strode house. 

A movement, and then a shape in the doorway. 

Breath catching in his throat as the white masks empty gaze passes over him. He stays utterly motionless as the man surveys the street before turning back into his help. Danny lets out a slow breath and slips out the window. Dropping soundless onto the grass below. Another glance at the Strode house and he's off. Creeping though hedges and and climbing over picket fences towards the exit.


	2. Nails.

Danny decides that he genuinely hates Frank Morrison. 

The man was lounging on a chair, legs splayed out as he twirled a knife in his fingers. It was a basic hunting knife, ridges on the top, sharp blade. No flare, but dangerous. Danny wondered where the gaggle of teens kept their blades. There was a particularly nasty one he saw them with that he wanted to steal. 

"So then, get this, the fucking bitch starts crying. After stabbing me in the shoulder she is the one crying!" 

Frank had a habit of assuming that everyone was captivated by what he was saying. Which was possibly true, for the most part. Danny generally found him obnoxious and immature. Worst of all he was Canadian. A slight that was unforgivable in every way. 

He realizes that Frank was staring at him expectantly for a response. 

"Wow, can you believe that." He offers, looking down at his freshly painted nails. The pink one, Susie, had asked nice enough that he obliged. Blue wasn't his color though, the shade made him sick. Since it was dry he covers his hands with his black gloves and feels significantly less anxious now that the shade was gone. 

"I know!" Frank continues talking and Danny wonders how deep he can stick a knife into the mans stomach before he screams. 

Julie comes in stage left, the only member of this little group of Canucks he respected in any real sense. Mostly for her knowledge of American Serial Killers, and general undercurrent of bloodlust in her words. Her accent awful but if he tried hard he could ignore it. 

"Hey I've been meaning to ask." Danny interrupts the little twat mid sentence, earning a sour glare, "Do you know about the guy that lives in the, uh Haddonfield place?" 

The police car said Haddonfield on the side, so that must be the town. 

"Oh sure that's Michael Myers." Julie says, dropping lazily onto one of the couches surrounding the woodburning stove, "Y'know from the movie." 

Under any other circumstances he would assume he had heard wrong, or was simply slipping from reality. But no, Julie did say The Movie. As if he was supposed to know what the fuck Movie she was referring to and that the real flesh and blood man was a character from said movie. Frustation is deep and sharp and he feels his eye twitch. 

"The....movie?" Danny repeats, slowly. Then he says it again. Unsure if he had actually said it or simply thought it really hard. 

"Yeah you ever see it, Jed? It's a classic." Joey, the second most endearing person in the lodge speaks up. He also had some of the coolest knives so he didn't like to imagine gutting him as much as Frank or Susie. 

"Enlighten me." He offers. Movies never captured his interest too much. He preferred to read when he wasn't writing. 

"So like the killer is Michael Myers and he's like crazy." Julie starts. 

"Yeah he kills his sister when he's six and is locked up for years." Frank adds. 

"Fifteen years, right?" Susie pipes up from beside him. 

She was the his third favorite member of the team. Brutal with her sharpened sticks. Though that one tacky fake jewel encrusted dagger was disgusting. At least she wasn't annoying. 

"Yeah and then he kills a bunch of other people after he escapes." Joey finishes, "Its a pretty basic movie. Kinda fun to kill Laurie Strode herself." 

Danny stares at the flickering fire. He had a name to his obsession, and that filled him such joy it almost makes him sob. 

"Have you spoken to him?" 

Frank laughs, sounding so high and mighty Danny is tempted to bite his throat out. But he contains himself and instead stares at the man with annoyed patience, just barely holding back his tears. 

"He doesn't speak. That's like, his thing." Frank says, looking at Danny as if he was scum. 

"I didn't ask that, Frank." He growls, "I asked if any of you have tried speaking to him. Not if he does." 

The man shrugs, blowing Danny off with a wave of his hand. He would like to break every single one of Frank's fingers. Slowly. 

"I did." Julie, his favorite, says, "He just stared at me. Tilted his head and walked off." 

Thats good to know that saying hello wouldn't result in his death. He rubs his chin, already planning the things he wanted to say to Michael when he got back. 

"Why the fuck are you asking, eh?" Frank sneers, "Are you gonna go flirt with him?" 

"I think I would like to paint the wall red with your blood and chew on your brains." Danny replies, standing up and grabbing his mask off the couch, putting it on, "Are you jealous?" 

The man scowls at him, gripping his knife harder, "Get lost fag." 

Danny stares at Frank and decides that he would fuck Frank if the man asked. But only if he said 'Danny please fuck me.' Because it would humiliate and empower him. Under the blank stare of the mask the mans smug expression starts to fade and he gets up. Stomping past Danny and flipping him off. He stares at the chair. 

"Are you really gonna talk to that guy?" Susie asks, "I mean he's like supper scary and ruthless." 

"I'm good with people." Danny replies, pulling himself away and heading towards the exit, "Besides I set up shop in a house there. Only polite to meet my neighbor s." 

In short time Danny strodes into Haddonfield with nothing but confidence. Stopping by his house to switch to his favorite white mask before sauntering past the police car and stopping at the foot of the Strode porch steps. He stares up at the shadows dancing in the lights of the police car. Momentarily lost in the intricate patterns that resembled rolling human guts before forcing himself up the steps. He makes a mental note to smash the lights of the cruiser with a hammer later. The constant blue and red light made him sick. 

He doesn't knock, inviting himself in. The main room was different than in the trials. Decorated like a picturesque house from the 60's. An ugly floral couch and television were the only thing of note, and he quickly moves upstairs. Creeping up the steps silently. 

The two rooms the Shape usually went into was a side room with a window, and a room immedietly across the hall with another window. At random he chooses the room on the left. 

Its a girls room, judging by the vanity with a shattered mirror. Makeup compacts, jewelry and perfume sat on it along with a hair brush and a literal lock of hair. Danny doesn't touch any of the items. No use getting off on the wrong foot already. On the bed was a massive tombstone. He stares at it for a long time, half convinced that it wasn't real. 

Judith Myers. 

Must be the sister that died. The tombstone was crumbling a bit at the top, but in very good shape. Laid on the bed was a dead rabbit and dried larkspur. A flower that represents an open heart and attachment. He takes a step forward and hears glass crack. Looking down there were broken shards of glass everywhere from a cracked hand mirror. He lifts it, staring at the chrome of his mask. From the reflection of the cracked mirror he sees a man standing in the doorway. 

Michael Myers. 

Danny rises, delicately setting the hand mirror on the vanity before turning to face the shape. Like how Danny's mask the impression of human so was Michael's. A pale white ghost with dark eyes. No expression, no hatred, no feeling. It sends tingles down his spine. 

Their eyes meet under the black abyss of their masks and Danny can _feel_ their mutual bloodlust. He can practically hear the mans heart beating in his own chest and every breath Michael takes is a breath Danny takes. They are, in this first meeting, one and the same. 

In unison they step towards eachother. Danny feels his lips pulled up in a animalistic smile as he moves closer. They're so close now, and Michael reaches out to him, pale fingers yearning for the touch of his soul mate. He gasps under his mask when a cold hand wraps around his throat and lifts him off the ground until the tips of his steel toe boots barely brush the floor. A flash of steel and Danny barely catches Michael's wrist before a knife stabs into his guts. 

"I-I haven't touched anything." Danny chokes out, "I wouldn't t-touch what's yours." 

Michael tilts his head, an endearing tik that would have him swooning if he weren't being held up like a naughty kitten. Apparently these are the magic words as Michael slowly lowers him to the ground. Feet alighting on the ground and relibing the pressure off his throat. Michael's hand remains on his neck however, fingers digging into the soft material of the mask shroud. The smile had not left his face. 

"I'm Danny." He whispers, sincerely giving the man his own name, "I moved in across the street. Have you seen me?" 

Empty deep silence before Michael slowly shakes his head no. Despair rips through him. He had thought they made a real connection earlier. Knowing that Michael wasn't actually aware of his existence humbled him. Which is a feeling he despised in every way. 

"Oh..." 

From this close he can barely make out the other mans eyes. And while its hard to discern emotion from just eyes he detects a hint of curiosity. 

"What's your name?" Danny asks, knowing damn well that there wasn't going to be an answer. But he doesn't want Michael to know that he knows as much about him as he does. 

Slowly he pushes the fist gripping the knife away from him. Happy that the mans arm goes limp. Not quite not a threat, but not actively attempting to gut him. 

"Not a talker? That's okay I can guess. Jerry? Derrick? Jed? Jordan? Fred?" He starts rattling off random male names, slowly building up towards the thing gets already knows, "Jake? Billy? Steven? John? Adam? Caleb? Michael?" 

The hand at his throat tighten ever so slightly, and he lets out a fake little gasp of understanding. 

"Hello Michael, it's good to meet you." Danny says, watching the shadowy eyes flick up and down his body, "I'm sorry to barge in on this room. It obviously means a lot to you." 

Its suprsingly easy to pull out of Michael's grip and walk out of Judith's room. Like a Ghost Michael follows after him, breathing down his neck. Aimlessly he wonders downstairs into the living room and out onto the porch. Stopping to turn and face Michael again. Black mask boring holes into him that just make him absolutely giddy. Attegion was something that kept him completely grounded. 

"I'll be seeing you around."


	3. Soul

"I think he likes me." Danny says, staring up at the stars blowing out over never ending sunset, "I mean I introduced myself, right? And he uh, well he didn't say much but y'know he's not a talk eh?" 

He laughs at that before sighing softly as worry course's through his system. Doubt was like a sharp pain in his side and it simply refused to go away. 

"Is playing hard to get the wrong move? I don't want to seem desperate and throw myself at him, but he hasn't actually come by. In fact I haven't even seen him at all? I scared him off didn't I..." 

Tears well in his eyes and he awkwardly reaches under his mask to wipe them. Right now he should really focus. The Abyss was getting mad at him. 

"Seriously, what do you think?" He asks, turning to face the blond man currently gurgling on his own blood. 

He spits blood at him and Danny just barely makes out a curse word. He turns on his side, propping his head up with an arm and looking at the man. A few minutes earlier he had made a nice slit in the mans side which spilled out wriggling lengths of greyish purple guts into the dirt. The man had done a admirable if not futile job of shoving them back into his body. 

This man, tall, blond, always in a nice suit that just screamed old money. Danny liked looking at him. There was another man, really buff and often without a shirt on. Sometime's he would purposely allow these men to escape. Mostly because he would enjoy having sex with them if given the opportunity. 

Unfortunately the double edge sword of being his object of affection was that he took particular joy in poking their eyeballs out. The blond man gasps, desperately starts crawling away from him. Danny sits up, watching the pathetic scene until the man vanishes into the overgrown grasses, leaving a trail dark brown blood mixing into the dry dirt. 

He stands wiping the dust off his jeans and jacket with a sigh. Two others had escaped, and the Abyss was quite pissed at him for letting that happened. He came out here to relieve some stress and yet here he was. More stressed than before. 

Wondering after the trail of blood he finds the man still breathing in the bushes. Nudging his shoulder and forcing him onto his back. Danny steps over him, staring down at the pained face. Light was quickly fading from his eyes as he kneels, straddling his waist and crushing a rope of guts under his knee. Warm wet fluids soaking through his jeans. 

He pulls his knife from a belt strap at his side and spins it in fingers. Below him the mans breath hitches, still able to feel fear despite the constant pain. Danny presses the flat of the blade just under the mans chin. 

"Do you want me to kill you?" 

The man nods. 

Danny scoots back, sitting on the mans thighs as he uses the the knife to cut through the button up shirt under the jacket. Revealing soft pale skin marred with blood. 

"You've been no help, blondie. So I'm gonna have to make it hurt." 

He screams, a guttural sound of rage and starts stabbing the pale unguarded skin. Purposely aiming for the stomach and shoulders instead of lungs and heart. The man thrashes under him, soft voice crying out in fresh agony Each stab draws a feral growl from Danny, sinking the knife into flesh over and over and over again. Watching almost in slow motion as the blade cleaves its way through the soft delicate skin and bright red blood seeps out. 

The meat below him becomes a mash of red sinew and blood. He slices the mans left arm from fingertip to shoulder before the final death rattle, watching the white bone peek out from the in random yet interesting patterns from the still pulling veins. 

Eventually his breath evens out and he stands. Stepping over the clump of flesh and meandering down the one street old western town. A tumble weed rolls by in the hot breeze. 

Man, he couldn't make this shit up. 

Laugher echos off the wooden building. Scaring Danny momentarily before he realizes the laughter was coming from himself. Gulping in an attempt to stop the giggles he leaves the saloon behind and wonders through a flat foggy field. 

"Do you want me to go again?" He calls out, looking down to see his hands clenching and unclenching into fists without his input. 

"I'll go again, I guess. I mean its fine, if you're that mad at me I'll just go at it. I'll go again. I'll go again." 

Low humming starts in the back of his brain. A buzz of annoyance from something unfathomable. It reminds him of his editor at the Roseville, or his mother. 

He bumps into something, and two strong hands grab his shoulders. The ground beneath his feet had become pavement where grass had been. Looking up he sees a familiar set of coveralls and hears a deep rhythmic breathing. 

"Oh hey, buddy." Danny greets, stepping a few feet back, "Sorry, distracted. You know how it is." 

The man stare is heavy and makes him feel as if he was slowly sinking into the pavement. Danny looks down at his bloodstained boots just to be sure he wasn't ankle deep in the street before looking up to Michael. He hasn't moved. 

"Goin' out? I really got some guys out there, earlier that is. They, uh, didn't stand a chance y'know? Gave em the ole-" He mines stabbing a few times, earning a head tilt from Michael. 

He was sweating now. Throughly embarrassed and on the verge of hyperventilating. Which causes his face to feel even more wet due to condensation buildup under the mask. 

Michael was slightly taller than him, and generally more broad. Cutting a brutal silhouette wherever he stood. His boots were untied, and instead of a knife he was holding a broken pipe which was pressed against his shoulder. His shoes being untied was bothering Danny. He can't tear his eyes away from the laces. The strong hands gently push him to the side before releasing him. Then Michael walks off. Leaving him alone on the street. 

"See you around!" He calls, drifting off towards his house. 

The urge to break and enter hits him like truck. Once Michael leaves the realm he runs towards the Strode house and blounds up the stairs. Judith's room was terribly boring and messing around in there would only make Michael want to gut him. Instead he drifts into the other room. 

Cheery walls painted in blue, red and yellow stripes greet him. A small bed sat in the corner with light blue sheets covered in cute little trains. Toys rot in a corner, and a faded carpet of a cartoon town with little highways schools covers the floor. The juxtaposition of the man in the street and this room briefly sends Danny into a spiral of dismay and confusion that takes a whole to re over from. 

Michael was six when he killed his sister. This was indeed a six year olds room. Nothing too crazy. Hell a nightlight shaped like a clown was glowing gently in the corner. 

What drove a child to murder. Danny knew what drove him to kill, but what drove Michael to kill? Was it a bloodlust that he was born with, or something created, formulated. 

Maybe it was evil in its purest form. 

Danny picks up a kitchen knife sitting on the bedside table. It was dull with dried blood and gore. 

He takes it. Surly Michael will be looking for this.


	4. Vice

Danny has a scar. 

Just above his left eye, three inches long. Cutting across his forehead from the middle of his nose towards his temple. It curves like a eclipsed moon and sometimes he imagines the flesh of his face coming apart at that seam. That mark opening up and flaps of his face falling down to reveal.... 

Nothing. 

A blank space behind his skin where his brain, and allegedly his entire person exist. 

He could reach inside the empty cavern of his face and into his body and pull out the parts of himself that he didn't like. 

The rotting heart. His lungs. His intestines. A kidney or two. All of those pulled from his body and leaving him with... 

What? A soul? 

Physical he was here. He could touch himself. Touch others. Affect the world around him and be affected in turn 

But he's not really here.

His forehead was warm and damp, and when he rests a hand on his chest there's a beat. Almost imperceptible and probably fake. 

Faintly he hears a crashing noise downstairs and he sits up. That must be Michael. Quietly he climbs out the window and drops off the awning onto the steps of the porch in silence. Michael grunts in exertion trying to bust the door down. 

"Hey." Danny says, catching the mans attetion. 

Michael turns on him immedietly marching towards him with death in his fathomless eyes. 

He steps back quickly, holding up the kitchen knife with flourish. This gives Michael a pause, mask looking at the knife then settling on Danny's face. 

The blade had been cleaned and lovingly sharpened. It looked like could actually be used for food instead of carving holes into people. Carefully he steps forward until his face to face with Michael. Of course he has to stand on his tip toes to be closer to eyelevel with the man. 

Brown hooded eyes glare at him from under the mask. It makes him shudder at the anger they hold. 

He reaches out, gently taking Michael's soft hand and pressing the handle of the blade into it. The mans grip is tight on the weapon and Danny keeps his hand over the balled fist. Michael came to him. Michael wanted him. 

"Where does it hurt?" Danny whispers, resting his head on Michael's shoulder. He hears a rumbling heart beat. That one was real. 

"Is it in your head? Or your heart?" 

Danny laughs, breathing in the scent of Michael. The scent of blood and evil. 

"My pain is in my head, its constant and sharp. But I don't want to feel better anymore. I want to inflict my pain on others and make them hurt like I always have. I wish every person in the entire world had one neck, and I had my hands wrapped around it." 

The grip on the knife turns from steel to stone, and Danny melts into Michael. He understood him. They shared in a pain that only they truly understood. 

"Where do you hurt Michael?" Danny asks again. 

Under him the mans arm shifts, and a hand forcefully grips his neck. He looks up at Michael, trailing his hands up the coveralls and pressing his fingers against the cheeks of the latex mask. It was warm, almost like flesh. 

"Can I help you?" 

The man nods, filling Danny with joy as he stands on his tip toes, lips brushing against the latex ones of the mask. 

Pain sprouts in his side and he gasps, looking down at the knife embedded in his guts. He looks up, into the blank eyes staring down at him. Danny doesn't know if he had been smiling before but he sure was now as he gently lifts the mask up to reveal a soft pair of lips. 

"Again." He whispers. 

The knife slowly pulls out of his guts. Warm sticky blood soaking his shirt and trailing down his stomach and hips. Another jolt and pain flares up as Michael stabs him as requested. He grips the lapels of the mans coveralls and presses his lips to Michael's. 

He feels the man gasp and jerk back, physically pushing Danny away and off his knife. Michael covers his mouth before pulling the mask down. Now he can't see the eyes under the façade. 

Was he mad? Maybe just flustered. Being institutionalized doesn't help with first times. Danny covers his stab wound with his hand to stifle the blood flow. 

"We aren't that different Michael. You know that right?" He whispers, stepping forward and grabbing the banister of the porch, "We are the idle hands of the devil." 

He climbs onto the railing and grabs the lip of the roof, hauling himself up with a painful grunt as blood spurts from his stab wound. Ungracefully he rolls onto the roof and manages to crawl to the window, climbing inside and collapsing on the floor. Grunting in pain as he tries to colld the himself. 

"Oh Michael." He whispers, staring at the shiny reflection blood on his black glove, "You really are such a tease."


	5. Talking Heads

Talking Head's 77 is the debut studio album of the band talking heads. The band had been apprised multiple times for record labels before this and the album was greatly anticipated. Including great singles such a 'Uh-Oh, Love Comes To Town' and a personal favorite 'Psycho Killer'. 

The bands focus on this debut album was to, "Convey a modern message about the importance of taking charge of your own life", while still being fun and funky to listen to for their fans in the 70's. Its a culmination of their effort to really tune their sound, as they had been approached for a record labdl multiple times before finally signing on for this album. Recording was even paused while on a European tour with Ramone's. A expedition to promote their hit single 'Love → Building on Fire'. 

On the topic of songs with love in their title, the opening track 'Uh-Oh, Love Comes To Town'. A swelling and upbeat tune with a lovely bass beat to it under lyrics lamenting about how once people fall in love they neglect their duties. It reads as a man completely lost in the complexities of love and how to act. A perfect opening for the rest of the album. 

Now the album seems to slow from here. While the songs 'New Feelings', 'Tentative Decisions', and 'Happy Day' are far from filler they lack a stand out identity aside from continuing their trend of upity music and jazz inspired pop tunes with a strong baseline. 'Happy Day' stands out with a particularly joyfull almost fae like tune that inspires one to get up and dance. 

It is followed immeditly by 'Who Is It?" A bizzar and short song in which David Bryn asks "Who is it? What is it?" again and again over a strong drum beat and almost anxiety inducing bassline. A song foreshadowing the appearance of 'Psycho Killer' on the b side of the tape. 

'No Compassion follows up about a man lamenting about others experiencing problems and complaining about said problems. Our main character complains about others complaining, and how uninterested he is in these problems. How the man lacks compassion for them. An interesting build for what's to come, and a look at society. 

Now of all the songs on the album 'Psycho Killer' is Talking Heads stand out track on the album. The penultimate song on the B-Side of the track its heavy bassline and asserrive drums set a heavy tone off the bat. The lyrics are describing a serial killer, incredibly relatable, and the thoughts of the saud killer. From wild fantasy such as being unable to seep due to their bed being on fire,and an apprehension to touch saying they're a 'real live wire.' The main character is demanding that the listener run, and fun far away. As they are dangerous and any intimacy will result in certain death. 

The sound of a window sliding open stops Danny from carving his manifest into the floral wallpaper. He turns to see Michael gracefully stepping through the window and into his room. He stabs the knife into the wall and turns to fully face Michael. 

Two painful half healed knife wounds bring twings of pain as he moves. Idly he sticks his hand under his shirt, running a fingers over the warm scabs. If he concentrated he could feel the skin knitting together, healing itself. Momentarily distracted by the feeling of his skin and the way it pulls itself into one. The way the thick scab could be picked away to show soft pinky flesh. He digs his nail under the stury hunk of flesh a tears at it. Pain shoots through his skin briefly as he peels back the scab. 

Eyes refocus on Michael. Who was staring at him intently. He pulls his hand out of his shirt, looking at the blood collected under his blue fingernails instead of the man. 

"What brings you here?" Danny asks, dropping his hand and turning back to his manifest. 

He starts carving into the drywall. Listening to the scuff of loose fitting boots approaching him. 

"Are you going to hurt me again?" Danny muses. He wants that blade from Frank. It was made of glass held together with barbed wire and attached to a handle. He wanted to see the rugged evil stab wounds it would leave in meat. 

A hand on his shoulder, and he stops carving the letter L. 

We Are The Devil covers the wall now, and his review of Talking Heads. Damn. He should've moved walls. 

Michael turns him around, and he stares up at the familiar white mask. A splatter of brown dried blood over the vauge features of the mask. He can see brown eyes staring down at him from behind the mask. Michael came back for him, so he must want something only he can give him. 

"Do you want me to make you feel good?" Danny asks, desire building in his chest. 

There's a long pause, and the sound of their breathing is the only noise in their entire world perhapse. The only to people in Haddonfield. The only two people that matter. The last demons in hell. 

Michael nods. 

Danny drops his knife and takes Michael's hand, dragging him over to a bed that sat in a corner. The walls above it were plastered with photos and makeshift newspapers he had made about his favorite kills while in the hunts. It was how he kept himself grounded in the first long stretches of time in the Abyss. Not a hobby he had abandomln completely he just needed more paper. And to find his pens. 

Michael sits on the bed without resistance. Danny stares down at him, eyes roving over the coveralls stained with blood and the physique of the man before him. Slowly he reaches out and unzips the garment. Hands gently brushing his chest, then down to his stomach. He preses his palms against Michael's stomach. The shirt was cotton and slightly stiff. It was stretched over Michael's chest as if it was a size too small. The coveralls had the last name Smith on a patch. Under the tight fabric of the shirt Michael's chest and stomach are firm. Lacking definition of muscle but still carrying a brutal strength. Even without the help of the Nightmare. 

He pushes down the coveralls, revealing the rest of the black t-shirt. Along with firm arms. The skin was pale and when he touched it he finds it soft. Michael pulls his arms out of the garment as Danny trails his hands up his arm. Fingers brushing the edges of the mask. 

Michael didn't like it when he pulled it up. So Danny yanks it off in one quick movement, and throws it across the room into a corner. 

Anger flashes on a beautiful face. Curly brown hair falling around his temples and framing those bright brown eyes. A noticeable scar cut across his left eye, a white cloud floated in the brown from whatever caused the injury. The man starts to rise, practically snarling in anger as Danny grabs his chin between two fingers. 

"If you put that fucking mask back on I'm leaving this place and you'll never see me again." Danny hisses, watching shock flash across his features "You don't want me to leave, do you?" 

He watches a contemplative look appear on him before he sighs and sits back down. Giving Danny an annoyed stare. 

He cups Michael's face in his hands, leaning down and pressing their lips together. Moving slowly against the others soft and supple lips. Deftly flicking his tongue over them before bringing the bottom one into his mouth to suck gently. All while his hands had been running down Michael's chest to gently press a palm against the growing erection. This brings a gasp of pleasure from Michael. 

"Have you ever been touched like this?" Danny whispers, pressing kissing along the mans cheek towards his neck. He sucjs hard, leaving a hickey. 

He feels Michael shake his head no, and excitment courses through him. 

"Do you want me to touch you like this?" 

A tense silence passes, and he slides a hand up Michael's shirt, fingers brushing the thick hair on his chest and stomach. 

Michael nods. 

He smiles, pulling away from Michael and dropping to his knees. The man tilts his head, staring down at him curiously when he does this. Nudging Michael's legs apart he scoots closer, slowly pulling down the mans black boxer briefs to reveal a half hard cock. In doing this Michael sighs and clenches his fists on the edges of the bed. 

"I'm going to make you feel really good, Michael." Danny coos, warm breath falling on the semi hard cock and bringing another small grunt. 

Starting from the base he runs his tongue up Michael's cock. Moving slowly, savoring the the salty tang of sweat and the feeling of the other cock growing stiffer under his tongue. He swirls his tongue around the tip using a free hand to gently strokes the lower half of Michael's cock. Using his other hand to rub himself through his jeans. 

Above him Michael was panting heavily at his actions, breath hitching when Danny takes the tip of his cock into his mouth and sucks. Looking up he meets soft brown eyes with a gentle pink flush on his cheeks. Danny flattens his tongue and takes most of Michael's cock into his mouth. Earning a guttural growl from the man. Danny hums around his cock, starting to bob his head slowly to earn a couple soft sighs from Michael. 

Hands tangle in his short hair and he gets only a few seconds to brsce himself for when Michael shoves his cock down his throat. Pubic hair brushing against his nose as he tries not to choke from the sudden blockage down his throat. Breathing through his nose he rolls his tongue against the mans cock and quickly tries to pull back. Michael's grip is strong and he can't pull back enough to get off the mans cock, grabbing Michael's wrist and digging his nails into the soft underside to get him to let go. 

He gasps for air, coughing slightly before giving Michael a stern look. The man simply frowns him, seemingly annoyed that he stopped sucking his cock. 

"Mikey, as much as I'd love you to fuck my face I do need to breath." Danny chides, idly stroking Michael's cock to wipe the pout off his face, "We're not at the right angle." 

Laying a head on Michael's leg he bats his eyes at the man. Michael had a big cock and he wanted very much to have it fill him up. Their eyes meet and he can see unconcealed desire on Michael's face. Danny winks at him and the man bites his lips, panting openly and letting out a needy whine. That was cute. It made Danny want to get fucked even more. 

He stands, releasing the mans cock and heading towards the bedside table. It was mostly covered in knives, but there was a bottle of surgical lube he had plundered from the Doctors hospital in the drawer for when he jacked off to the thought of stabbing blondie earlier.. A hand roughly grabs his wrist and he turns back to Michael. The angelic face is alight with a cold glare, pouting at Danny. 

"I'm not done, Michael." Danny placates, opening the drawer and grabbing the bottle of lube. 

He unbuckes his belt, kicking his boots off and pulling his pants down without flare. Michael's eyes run over him curiously and it makes him smile. 

How does he want Michael to fuck him. It has been a while, before getting into this place he hadn't gotten much action. A few blow jobs here and there from some drunk guys he picked up at a bar. Obviously Michael wasn't going to be a savant, but judging by how desperatly he shoved his cock down his throat he would be good at shoving it inside him. Idly he reaches out and runs his fingers through Michael's soft curls. 

"You're very expressive. Is that why you wear a mask?" Danny asks, straddling Michael's lap. Michael rolls his eyes and shakes his head as Danny squeezes out lube onto his fingers. 

Obviously lying. Danny doesn't mind though, Michael's presence made him feel grounded in a way that he had almost forgotten he was capable of. Danny ruffles his hair with his free hand, leaning in to gently suck at the mans neck. With his other hand he starts to prep himself, since this wasn't his first rodeo. Under him Michael is still, but tense and impatient. Danny ignores him until he feels adequately stretched out. Then he squeezes almost the entire bottle into the palm of his hand and strokes Michael's fully hard cock, earning a small moan. 

Taking other mens virginity was a unique pleasure of his. Usual he was the one pitching of course, but he had meet a fair share of big studs in need of pounding a willing participant. 

Slowly he lowers himself onto Michael's cock, letting out a slow moan as the thick dick fills him. He can just barely hear Michael gasping in pleasure under him. Pain shoots briefly up his spine, dulled quickly by the intense pleasure. Rough fabric of Michael coveralls scratches his bare thighs as his sits fully in the mans lap. He balls his fists in Michael's shirt as he tries to adjust to his size. Unfortunately Michael doesn't seem to interested in his comfort as hands grip his hips to hold him in place and he grinds his cock up inside him. The force of the thrust would normally lift him but the mans strong hands hold him still. 

"Fuck." Danny growls, sitting up straight and looking down at Michael's face. The mans lips were quirked into a giddy smile, contrasting nicely with the sadistic light in his eyes. 

He didn't think Michael wanted to hurt him as much as the man wanted to feel good, even if it caused him pain. Such disregard for others feeling made his cock twitch. Curious to see what Michael would do to him he relaxes and presses his forehead against the younger man's. 

"Do whatever you want to me." 

Michael blinks, frown appearing on his face at his words. 

"I want to see how far you will go." 

The mans eyes light up and he literally gasps with joy. Danny didn't think he wanted or needed permission. No, he was was excited to be given an idea. Michael grabs him under his shoulders and with that familiar monsterous strength lifts him up. He whines when the mans fat cock leaves his body, but its cut short when Michael stands as well and turns to shove Danny against a wall. Thumbtacks dig into his back painfully and papers crinkle under him. Quickly he wraps his legs around Michael's waist before he's dropped, allowing Michael to use his hands and shove his cock back inside him. This angle usually provides shallower penitration but Michael's cock is so large that it still manages to hit a particularly good angle that sends shocks of pleasure through him. The man thrusts a few times and Danny leans his head back, closing his eyes to moan in pleasure. Michael's hand gently takes right wrist and lifts it above his head, straining the socket enenough to cause notes of pain. It only adds to his pleasure. 

When the knife sinks into his palm all the way to the hilt, he screams. Looking up at one of his many hunting knives sunk into the his hand. Creating a shitty stigmata. Grunting he reaches to pull the knife out with his free hand only for Michael to catch it. Squeezing hard in a subtle threat to break his hand if he resists too much. 

Breathing steadily he lowers his hand as Michael changes their position. Hands grip his hips while his legs are propped over Michael's shoulder. This allows him to thrust deeper inside him. Movements distracting him from the searing pain his hand. The younger man's pace is brutal, thrusting with wild untrained abandon. Michael pushes closer, straining the muscles in his legs as the young man rests his forehead against the wall. Soft gasps and moans loud in Danny's ear. 

Pain and pleasure build up inside him despite the lack of skill. Michael isn't exactly hitting the right spots, but he brushes them enough to keep him hard, gripping the mans hair with his free hand and tugging slightly. Earning a growl from Michael. 

"Bite me." 

Teeth sink into the soft skin between his neck and shoulder. Blood spurts out instantly and runs down his collarbone. Danny moans, bangs his head against the wall as he Michael starts randomly biting his shoulder. Teeth piercing through his shirt and skin in numerous places. 

Michael gasps, and the closest thing to spoken words comes out of him in the form of a throaty moan. His thrusts stop and hot cum spills inside him. Danny is unfortunately in too much pain to reach orgasm at the moment, but he can't hold back a snicker at how quickly Michael had cum. 

Warm breath tickles his ear for a moment before Michael pulls back, reaching up and yanking the knife from his hand. Danny looks at the gaping hole and attempts to flex his fingers, only earning weak twitches. Michael pulls out and drops Danny on the floor without much care. The pain mixes in with his other sores so he doesn't bother making any noise, just pushing himself into a sitting position and looking up at Michael. The man stares down at him curiously, blood dripping off his hunting knife and cum dripping off his cock. 

"That was really good, baby. I'm just gonna go jack off in that corner real quick." Danny says, attempting to get to his feet. 

Michael drops to his knees and grabs the back of his neck. Shoving his face into the floor. His hips are raised, and Michael wastes no time shoving his half hard cock back inside his cum and lube slicked body. Danny groans, spreading his legs and arching his back as Michael starts to thrust again. Due to the searing pain in his hand Danny he's forced to lean forward onto his forearms as Michael grips his hips. Forcing him back in time with his thrusts. The feeling of his thick cock growing harder and bigger inside him makes him moan. From this angle Michael hits that little spot with much more frequency. He presses his forehead against the wooden floor and lets out a soft groan as the pleasure peaks and he finally cums. 

His body tenses, which does nothing to slow down Michael's unquenchable lust. If anything he thrusts even harder to force his way inside. Danny doesn't really feel like stopping him, compiling easily when Michael rolls him over to missionary position. 

A thin sheen of sweat covered Michael's forehead and blood dripped from his mouth. Danny's blood. Obviously. He looked like a rabid dog, panting above him. Closer to angel than human. 

He raises his hand, staring at the tacky blood from his half healed wounds. When he flexes his fingers they wiggle with more life than before. That was good, his right hand was his writing hand. 

Michael grabs his hand and slams it to the floor. Danny hisses in pain, eyes meeting the intense stare of the one above him. It only takes a few moments to decipher the expression. 

"All eyes on you, huh?" 

The man nods, thrusts in at a lovely angle and brings a moan from him. 

"I can do that." He reaches up with his uninjured hand and strokes Michael's face, "You know what your name means?" 

No. 

"Its biblical. Means he who is loved by God, or a gift from God. Its one of the archangles too." He runs a thumb over the mans cheek bone, "And my name is Daniel. It means God is my strength, and my judge." 

Michael groans, becoming still above him as he cums once more. Danny sits up and grabs his face, smearing more blood onto the mans features. 

"How would you judge me, Michael?" 

Hes met with a blank stare and holds back a sigh of dissapointment. He was talking to a man who had been locked up his entire life. This might be a bit much for him. 

"You wanna cuddle?" Danny tries, sliding out from under Michael and retrieving his pants. Pulling them on as he grabs the mans mask. 

Michael was still on his knees, cock out and staring at Danny with a peculiar look on his face. He doesn't bother trying to understand it, instead sitting on the bed and holding the mask out. 

"Come get it, buddy." 

Slowly Michael gets up. Tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his jumpsuit. Danny pats the spot next to him and Michael sits, taking the mask and covering his bloodied face. 

With great care Danny gently nudges Michael to lay on the bed. Laying his head across the broad chest once he does. His entire body burns with dull pain, but he still feels satisfied. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the steady beat of Michael's heart. 

Would he be here if Danny fell asleep and woke up? Probably not. But without a doubt the man would seek him out again and again. It comforts Danny to think that. It makes him happy to know that no matter what, even if they were not infact, in this hell, Michael and himself would find eachother. To him Michael was not the character in a movie like those brats said. He was a person. He was Danny's fucking soulmate. They would have always found eachother. No. Matter. What. 

Michael knew that the only person in the entire world that understood him was in this room too. And Danny would always be here for him. They could keep eachother occupied in the spaces between death, in the gaps between killing and loosing ones mind. 

As we all know, idle hands are the devils tools.


End file.
